


An Unusual Request

by Ophelia_Black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood Magic, Blood and Injury, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_Black/pseuds/Ophelia_Black
Summary: Bellatrix requests Hermione's help in rebuilding her body following her duel with Mrs. Weasley. Some plot, some smut. A challenge from a friendOriginally posted December 2011





	An Unusual Request

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge (more a bribe, if I recall) for Kriszti. Here's what she wanted in it: Either Hermione or Bellatrix must die but neither of them can be dead, there must be a happy ending, there must be a proposal of any kind, there has to be something funny that makes her laugh, and there must be kinky smut. Not sure I’d call this kinky, but that’s really just splitting hairs.  
> Originally posted December 2011.  
> -Ophelia

Hermione was utterly exhausted. She had woken up very early to raid Gringotts after a night of very little sleep, then spent the entire night fighting for her life. She had seen close friends cut down around her and felt emotionally drained. Her walk had slowed to a shuffle, her face was drawn and haggard, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down in her bed and sleep for days. Her head pounded with every step she took and the world spun dizzyingly around her. So when she started hearing voices, she dismissed it as a hallucination.

A very rude hallucination, at that. It started as a disembodied giggle, then whispers too faint to make out. The voice grew in volume until finally screaming, "Hey! Mudblood! Are you listening?" Hermione jerked and stared around wildly at the sudden screech, but nobody around her paid the slightest attention. "No, they can't hear me. Just you."

Hermione was horrified to hear the voice, and even more so to recognize it. "Bellatrix?" It felt odd talking to her own head, she didn't know if she should speak out loud or just think.

The voice was suddenly outraged. "How dare you address me by name? Insolent scum, disgusting girl." The voice raged and stormed for several minutes, growing steadily louder and less coherent as she shrieked. From what Hermione could make out, she was less than impressed with her performance in her fight with Mrs. Weasley, detailing the grisly death the matronly woman should suffer for having the audacity to challenge her.

"Enough already!" Hermione cried, her head pounding from Bellatrix's shrill voice. "How did you even get in my head in the first place? Am I- am I just imagining this?" A terrible fear gripped her at the thought. Had she finally lost her mind after all the fighting? Was the bloodshed and death too much for her after all? If the voice wasn't real, then what was? Was she really Hermione Granger? Will she wake up in a mental hospital, surrounded by white-clad doctors insisting that there was no such thing as magic?

"Calm yourself, girl," the voice spat. Evidently it could read her mind, after all. "Can't you see that my situation is infinitely worse than yours? Even so, you're not mad. Well, you may be, but not because you can hear me." The voice was less than soothing. How could she  _know_? What explanation could there possible be for having a dead woman's voice in her mind, speaking to her as if nothing had happened? Bellatrix Lestrange was certainly dead. Of that she was completely positive. She had seen the awful woman fall, she had watched her body shrivel up and explode like one of the twin's firecrackers. As far as she knew, her remains were no more than scattered dust strewn across the floor. She was undeniably dead, and there was no way to come back from that, unless…

"Worked it out at last, have you?" the voice sneered. "To think that they told me you were smart; everything I've seen of you suggests the opposite. No more than I expected from such a filthy girl, of course…" Hermione was too horrified even to take offense at her insults. More Horcruxes. Would she ever be rid of those horrible creations? "Rid of them? Why would we ever want to do that?" the voice exclaimed.

"You deserved to die. Anyone who makes a Horcrux deserves nothing but a slow, painful death. I hope it was terrible, what Mrs. Weasley did to you. I hope you felt every second of it." Hermione was furious. She recalled what Harry had said about Voldemort; how he had lost his body in exchange for life. How he had possessed the bodies of weaker creatures, even humans like Quirrell. Horrified, she reached out towards the back of her head. Was Bellatrix's face sticking out in the same way? To her relief, there was nothing there but her own tangled and singed hair. That was good. She tried to picture herself bald and wearing a turban, but to no avail.

"No, Mudblood," the voice said slowly. Her death was, in fact, excruciating, but she was not about to admit that to the insolent girl whose mind and body she shared. "I cannot control you in such a way, you are stronger by far than that other man was. I'll give you credit for that, at least. But I do need your help." The words came out as if they had a sour taste to them and Hermione imagined Bellatrix's nose wrinkling in disgust at her own deplorable weakness.

"Why should I help you?" Hermione owed the Death Eater nothing. If anything, the woman owed her. She had mercilessly tortured her over absolutely nothing. Hermione and her friends hadn't stolen anything, and they both knew it.

"Ah. About that… You were such a pretty girl, so scared and alone. I wanted to see if your screaming was just as nice and needed an excuse to find out. They were lovely, if you wanted to know." The voice sounded nonchalant, but Hermione could tell that this was the actual justification for her torture, not a weak excuse. It wasn't good enough reason for her, however, and Bellatrix seemed to sense it. "In any case," the voice continued quickly, "all of that is water under the bridge. Let the past stay in the past and help me out now. After all, I won't go away until you do. Unless you prepare a body for me I'll just have to settle for yours."

Hermione's eyes widened. She was sick of this voice after such a short time of listening to it, but she did not doubt that it would remain in her head for the rest of her life if she let it. She took a deep breath before uttering the dreaded words. "All right, I'll help you. Tell me what I need to do."

"Go on, you just need a bit of blood. A few drops will do. She won't be mad, tell her any excuse."

"Shut up!" Hermione was a terrible liar, but she was certain that Mrs. Weasley would be less than willing to donate her own blood for the resurrection of an enemy. She had to be sneaky. She had to be discreet. She had to-

"Hello, Hermione." Or not.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione cried, as though surprised to see the woman she had been so carefully sneaking up on as she calmly ate in the Great Hall. "I was just looking for you, actually… Umm…" She was no actress, and the voice in her head was growing steadily louder and angrier in its impatience. "Be quiet," she hissed.

Molly's kind brown eyes widened in surprise. The matronly woman practically radiated concern as she gazed at the oddly-behaving girl before her. "Hermione? Are you quite all right, dear?" Her face wrinkled as she frowned, deeply worried. Hermione winced as Bellatrix responded with a strong wave of scathing disgust.

"I can't take any more of this and she's barely even said anything. Do it!" Hermione's grip tightened on the short knife she held in her pocket, which she had conjured earlier at the voice's demand.

She swayed on the spot, muttering "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. I think I just need to lie down…" She pretended to fall, flailing her limbs. The Weasley matriarch predictably knelt down beside her at once, getting clipped on the arm by the sharp blade as she moved. Hermione was delighted that she was able to draw blood so easily, the plan that the voice had presented her with before involved numerous lethal stabs to the neck and chest. "Oh, you're hurt! Let me clean that up for you."

Molly glanced down at the small cut over which Hermione was crouched, confused. "Are you sure you're all right, dear? I can take care of it, it's just a scratch. But why were you holding a knife in the first place?" Hermione never answered, pressing a small glass vial to the wound. "Hermione! What on earth are you doing?"

The girl looked up, looking irritated as though she had been interrupted doing something very ordinary and important. "I'm… checking to make sure you don't have blood poisoning. You know, from the knife." She protectively clutched the vial, now filled with the precious crimson liquid, close to her chest. Mrs. Weasley stared at her.

"Blood poisoning? Hermione, what's going on? Why do you have a knife? Why would it be poisoned? But she was already gone, her pathetic excuse hanging limply in the air. The voice cackled with glee as she fled.

The potion sparkled and gave off a harsh light as Hermione tilted the contents of the vial into it. Covering her eyes with a cry of alarm, she stepped back from the huge cauldron. She was in the Potions classroom, working with the largest cauldron she could find and using rare ingredients stolen from the old professor's personal stores. She was unsurprised to find that he kept them unlocked and unwarded, being so much more trusting than Snape.

"Excellent. It's coming along quite nicely. So that's the blood of the enemy, forcibly taken. I think that's what it was supposed to be, right? Then there's something from the family that they don't know about, right? The Dark Lord said he used bone, right? Is that what Potter told you?" The voice continually asked for confirmation but plowed ahead without waiting. "Yes, that was it. You have that, don't you? From my niece? Throw it in. Go!"

The voice talked very quickly, giving Hermione a sharp headache. The sooner she was done with her the better. "Yeah. Here." She had in her hand the pinky finger of Nymphadora Tonks, which she had cut off while kneeling over her body in mourning. She still grieved deeply for her dead friend, but the voice had enthusiastically pushed her to dismember the corpse and in her eagerness to be rid of the dreadful witch she had done so with little question. It unnerved her greatly, mutilating the body of her good friend. The potion required the bone of a family member, obtained without their knowledge. That practically demanded that she use a dead family member, and there was only one of those so conveniently at Hogwarts. She saw little other alternative, and nobody was hurt from it, not really…

Again, she shielded her eyes as she tossed in the severed finger and the potion flared brightly. "Perfect." If Bellatrix had a body she would be leaning eagerly towards the cauldron. Her excitement was palpable and Hermione found her anxiety fading, even as her own part was about to begin. "You can do the last part now. Flesh of the _servant_ ,” Hermione was glad the witch had no mouth to smile with, for the hiss with which she drew out the sibilance of the word was already entirely too pleased.

“And you need to give it on your own. I can't force you, and I can't sit here and talk you into it.” Her tone turned casual, almost conversational. “Although, you would do well to remember what would happen if you refuse. I will be here talking to you. For the rest. Of. Your.  _Life_."

Hermione shivered. She knew she had no choice, the thought of spending the rest of her life listening to the screeches of Bellatrix Lestrange in her head was unbearable. She pulled out the same knife that she had used earlier, hands shaking as she extended it above the sparkling surface of the potion. She could recall the unearthly shine of the silver hand of Pettigrew, and was glad that she did not witness how it had been his end. "Just a little bit, right? It doesn't have to be my whole hand?"

"That's right. You can do the hand thing if you want to, though. I won't mind," the voice told her cheerfully. Hermione positioned the knife and closed her eyes, willing the trembling to stop. _You did it to Tonks, you can do it to yourself. It won’t be so bad…_ With a jerk of the knife, her own pinky finger fell into the cauldron with a splash. There was a moment of shock before Hermione screamed.

It was nearly drowned out, however, by the voice laughing with delight. The light from the potion reached an unbearable level, even with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. The glare suddenly dimmed, as though a lightbulb had blown out. Had something gone wrong? The voice was silent, but there was no sign of life from the cauldron. Hermione took a step towards it, trembling in the darkness, bundling her wounded hand to her robes.

Peering over the rim of the smoking cauldron, Hermione saw a mass of tangled limbs, so pale that they practically glowed in the darkness. There was the familiar curtain of messy black hair tangling down the body's back, and it was quite clear that the potion had restored Bellatrix as advertised. She closed her eyes and quickly turned away as the new body rose from the giant cauldron, not a stitch of clothing on it. "Well, now that that's all done, I'll just be going..."

A pair of arms wrapping around her waist prevented her from moving away. A flush spread across her cheeks as she could feel the older witch’s naked breasts press softly into her back. Bellatrix's hot breath caressed her face as she leaned in behind her and crooned, "Leaving so soon, Mudblood? We barely got to know each other. It's not like there's anyone coming down here..." Her voice suddenly grew much sterner. "You are not leaving this room until I give you permission. You're nowhere near done yet."

Hermione took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself, failing miserably. She could feel hands, thin and warm, traveling over her shoulders and slowly down her back. She cried out in alarm as they reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand. "What are you-" Bellatrix silenced her by placing the tip of the wand to her neck.

"What did I just say? You're not going anywhere. Help me get out of this thing; it's too tall to climb over." She reluctantly turned around, feeling the wand move away. She looked at the woman before her, carefully keeping her eyes trained on her face to avoid looking at the naked flesh below. Bellatrix smirked and wrapped her arms around Hermione's shoulders, raising an eyebrow when the girl did not move. "Well?" Hermione took a deep breath before lifting her up and over the rim of the cauldron, surprised by how light the woman was. After setting her down Bellatrix shivered, pulling her close. "It's cold in here. Warm me up."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And how do you expect me to do that? Give me my wand back and I'll conjure a fire." The Death Eater laughed.

"Give _your_ wand back? This is my wand, stupid Mudblood. You stole it from me and now that I have it back I won't be giving it away. You'll have to find something else to do. Don’t Muggles know how to light fires by hand?" Her dark eyes flashed with cruel amusement as she watched the Gryffindor flung herself away, panicking at being trapped unarmed in a dungeon with a sadistic murderer.

"Well, what do you expect me to do, then? Make your own fire! Make yourself some clothes!" Hermione cried, still averting her eyes and making her way towards the door. With a swish of her wand, Bellatrix quickly sealed the door and advanced on the student.

"What a shy little Mudblood. Here, I'll help you out." Another wave of her wand and Hermione's clothes vanished, much to her horror. Bellatrix pressed herself against her, their warm skin flush together. "I have a proposition for you, girl." she whispered. "I need to know if this body is as… functional… as the old one. It's a two-man job and I'll need your help again. Do this for me and I'll let you walk away unharmed." She laughed. "I'll even give your clothes back."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I – I don't know what to do," she said in a small voice. She felt a hand on her back, slowly making its way down towards her thighs. She squirmed at the unfamiliar touch, but Bellatrix held her firmly in place.

"Relax. I won't hurt you. You'll like it, I promise." She wriggled uncomfortably again and the woman sighed. "Fine. I won't touch you at all if you don't want. But you still need to take care of me. You can go it alone or just follow me." Hermione took a deep breath and willed herself to be still. Perhaps she could imagine this was just Ron with her…

But there was no way this could be Ron, not as she reached out to touch the thin body standing against her. There was no way those curves could belong to anyone but a woman, and no way those wild curls could belong to anyone but Bellatrix Lestrange. The hand on her back drew upwards, soft and gentle. She gasped as they cupped her breasts and ran the pad of a finger over her nipple. She arched her back slightly into the touch, surprised at how welcome it suddenly was. Hermione raised her own hand to duplicate the gesture and was pleased to hear the woman's breath hitch for a slight moment.

"Do you like this?" she asked, peering up at the Death Eater. She was unsurprised but disappointed to see that it was inscrutable as always, showing neither pleasure nor discomfort. Inspiration striking, she smirked and bent down so that her mouth was right in line with her chest. Glancing up once more, Hermione leaned in and darted her tongue out at a nipple, noticing the louder gasp from above. She enthusiastically sucked it into her mouth, licking and tugging on it as a hand tangled itself into her bushy hair, pressing her head closer.

"My, it seems you do know what to do after all," Bellatrix breathed. Her hand wandered lower on the girl, sliding down her soft stomach until it reached the dense patch of hair between her legs. Hermione's head shot back up at the touch, staring at her. There was something in the older witch's eyes that she could not properly place, having never seen it before. After a moment or two her brain defined it as lust, something that she never expected to have directed at her. Especially not here, backed against the door of the Potions classroom with a Death Eater. The very thought sent a burst of heat to her core.

Hermione stood on her toes, linking her arms around Bellatrix's neck and drawing their lips together. She was surprised by their softness, as though the woman's flesh should be as harsh as her personality. It was a most agreeable feeling, and they stood locked together for a moment before Bellatrix began to move again, quick to establish her dominance. She tightened her grip on the Gryffindor, pulling her towards a desk in the darkened classroom. She slammed her down and climbed on top of her, pinning her down effortlessly. The kiss grew more passionate as Bellatrix devoured her mouth, twisting her tongue around the girl's and moaning deep in her throat.

Hermione locked her legs around the woman's hips, pleased with this change of pace. She was rather alarmed to find her normally formidable self-control unravel as she moved completely independent of thought. Her hips ground against the ones above her as her hands explored the warm and smooth skin of Bellatrix's back and stomach. Her hand dipped lower, searching for the slick heat of her core as she pressed herself against it. It took most of her willpower to pull herself away so that she could slip a finger between the dark witch's wet folds.

Bellatrix pulled her mouth from the girl's with a gasp at the sudden feeling. She stared down at her and was enraged to see her smug smirk. How dare she? How dare she try to take the lead now? "Not yet," she told her angrily. Her own hand slipped down between them, looking the Gryffindor in the eyes as she slowly rubbed her fingertip over her wet clit. Hermione cried out in bliss, her eyes squeezing shut. Bellatrix captured her lips again as she moved her hand harder and faster, finally moving even lower to slowly circle her dripping opening. "Is this what you want?" she muttered. "Tell me. I want to hear you say it."

Hermione nodded, barely able to breathe. The fingers pulled away and she whimpered with longing. "Yes, yes. I want it. Please, I'll do whatever you want." She leaned back up into the kiss, desperate for as much contact as she could possibly get. Bellatrix's eyes flashed.

"Yes, you will. I already knew that. Do everything that I do, right after I do it. Do you understand, idiot girl? Is that clear?" She refused to wait for an answer, deciding instead to continue circling her core again. She waited until she could feel the same pressure on her own body, breathing heavily as she did so, before she pushed two fingers hard into the girl. Hermione shouted in pain and pleasure at the intrusion but quickly repeated the action on the Death Eater, who hissed at the feeling but did not cry out.

Awareness came to Hermione in intense bursts of clarity, constantly surrounded by the feeling of having Bellatrix inside her in such a way. She was vaguely aware of how her nails dug into the woman's back, of how she bit down hard on her shoulder in return, of the blood that slowly dripped from the resulting wounds. She could scarcely hear their moans pulsing through the air above the sound of her own pounding heartbeat. The fingers twisted within her, pounding steadily as they thrust in and out. She eagerly copied the motion with her own hand, adding another finger only when Bellatrix did so and changing her pace only after prompting. Lights flashed behind her eyes, her hips jerking frantically as she neared what she was sure was her climax. Bellatrix's lips covered hers again and the resulting crash of tongues was enough to send her flying off that looming cliff. She could not understand all of her feelings at that time but it wasn't a problem; there were no problems. Pleasure flowed through her limbs, overpowering her.

It only took a few more thrusts until Bellatrix followed her over the edge, hips crushing against hers as she rode out her orgasm. She collapsed against the Gryffindor, panting and sweaty bodies tangled together. After what could be a minute or an hour they looked at each other, eyes bright. Bellatrix broke the silence first. "Everything seems to be in order, then. This body is no different from my old one." She pulled herself shakily to her feet and staggered across the room. Pulling out her wand, she waved it several times, muttering incantations beneath her breath. The sweat and blood vanished from their bodies as their clothes reappeared, and the lock on the door clicked softly as it opened. They stood looking at each other for a long moment, Death Eater to Mudblood.

"I promised you would leave safely with your clothes if you pleased me. I always keep my word, you see." The silence was awkward and lingering, stretching for over a minute. Finally Hermione spoke, for once sounding as if she had trouble finding the right words.

"I don't really want to go. I would rather stay with you, would rather feel like this again and again than go back to the others. They would want me to settle down, probably marry Ron and have a bunch of Weasley children." She wrinkled her nose at the very thought of the future that had only an hour ago seemed so promising. The voice had left her mind but what had happened her was much more personal and unforgettable; the feeling of Bellatrix's fingers inside of her, or of her soaking core clenching around her own hand in return. There was no way she would ever be intimate with someone else and somehow forget this woman. She had imprinted herself upon her, and she would not leave here without ensuring that this encounter would not be their last.

Bellatrix stared at her, confused. She had expected the girl to rush from the room without a backwards glance at the soonest opportunity, certain that she had not enjoyed their encounter as much as she seemed to. "You want… to stay here… with me?" She spoke the words uncertainly, unsure of whether or not she had heard Hermione clearly. This could not be true, it simply couldn't. Her brain quickly offered half a dozen ways to use this new information to torture the delicate girl before her but she discarded them at once. Not even causing pain had ever given her such a rush as she had received minutes ago. What had begun as an effort to rebuild her body had become an effort to rebuild her own shriveled passions, and she could never give up this feeling that she had discovered. No, nothing would do but to keep this treasure all to herself. Suddenly more sure, she smirked and took closed the distance between them. She bent her head low, catching her in another heated kiss.

Oh, yes. She could get used to this.


End file.
